


Taking Control (GND)

by whatdoyouthinkmyjobis



Series: Hunters on the Hellmouth [30]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Assault, Blood, Comforting Sam, Confusion, Crossover, F/M, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, POV Outsider, Plotty, Set in Sunnydale, Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 21:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9204143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis/pseuds/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis
Summary: Jada's life changes forever after a violent attack.





	

Jada bounced a little as she left the grocery store. She’d thought about Sam as she picked out tomatoes. She’d thought about Sam as she restocked on sugar. She’d thought about Sam as she bought wine. In the nearly empty parking lot of the closing store, she still thought about him.

It was a small gesture, but his embrace after she told him about her recently deceased father meant the world to her. She spent all of her time helping other people, and it was nice to have even a hug as support.

The next night, she had visited him after her aunt fell asleep. They had planned to watch a movie, but instead she told him more about her family – her beloved father in particular – and he listened, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips set firm. He cared about what she had lost, and when she went home, she felt it was okay to cry.

Screaming at the sky wasn’t her style, but the idea of letting go appealed to her. She used to have dinner with her brother Michael, the only person she ever felt truly open with, once a week. Since he deployed, she’d retreated into herself. With that in mind, she’d purchased a small journal at the store. When she got home, she’d check on her sleeping aunt, see if Sam was home, and maybe write after spending a little time with him.

Balancing her bag of groceries on one hip, she fiddled with the keys to her car while continuing to daydream.

“Hello,” said a voice from behind her.

Startled, Jada turned quickly, nearly dropping her groceries.

A handsome young man – nearly six feet tall with pale blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and an air of trust fund – stood a few feet behind her. He wore a suit, but judging by the smudges of dirt, his special event hadn’t gone as planned.

“Hi,” she said, gripping her keys tighter while smiling politely. “I didn’t see you there. Do you need help?”

“Help? No, not me.” He took a step closer to her. “I just couldn’t help but notice you. Has anyone ever told you you’re gorgeous?”

The smile evaporated from her lips, and her voice dropped. “Yes, they have. Thank you.”

Keeping her eyes on the man, she yanked open her door, and shoved the groceries inside, not caring what spilled. Before she could slam the door, he closed the gap between them and dragged her out by her hair.

Jada screamed.

He jerked her head to the side and a white hot pain like the sting of a hundred bees pulsed from her neck.

Threading her keys through her fingers, she punched him in the stomach. As he tumbled back, she rifled through her purse. He snapped up with a snarl, his pretty face damaged somehow. She sprayed him with pepper spray, jumped in her car, and sped home.

* * *

 

Dean doubled over, hands on his knees, and laughed a shoulder-shaking, eye-crinkling laugh. He’d been laughing most of the way home. “It was just - it was so tiny!”

Sam chuckled, not because he found being jumped by a squeaky-voiced vampire who wasn’t five foot on her tallest day particularly amusing, but because he loved it when his brother laughed. Dean’s laugh always meant things were okay. 

“I almost felt bad staking her,” Sam said. 

“Really?”

“Nah.” 

He glanced at Dean again, still smiling and pulsing with adrenaline after their hunt, and decided it was a good time to ask. “Why aren’t you staying at Buffy’s tonight?”

Dean grinned slyly. “Why, Sammy, got plans with your girl?”

“No, but you’ve practically moved in over there.”

“Toothbrush and a drawer ain’t moving in. Besides, I am dog tired after hanging drywall all day, and I gotta do it again tomorrow.”

Sam shook his head as they walked up the stairs to their apartment. “That’s so unreasonable how your boss wants you to work instead of sneaking off with Buffy during fourth period.”

“Shut up.” 

Their banter died at the top of the steps where they saw Jada, glassy-eyed and still, slumped by their door, a blood-soaked cardigan pressed against her neck. 

Sam rushed to her side, helping her woozily stand. “What happened?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

She remained tight-lipped. 

Once inside, she stared bleary-eyed at the coffee table while Dean fetched the first aid kit. Sam gently peeled her sweater away from her neck and cleaned the wound with rubbing alcohol. She didn’t even flinch from the sting. At least the vampire hadn’t hit an artery. 

She remained stoic as Sam bandaged her neck, though she did take the glass of water Dean offered. 

“Is your aunt okay?” Dean asked.

“Dot’s fine,” Jada said bitterly. 

“Where were you attacked?” Sam asked.

She took a long drink of water. “Grocery store.”

“I’ll go call the store,” Dean said, retreating to his room either to give Buffy the heads up or give them some privacy.

Sam held her bloody hand in both of his.

After a minute, her voice barely a whisper, Jada said, “The worst part wasn’t being jumped by some crazy pervert. It wasn’t being bitten. The worst part was that Auntie was awake when I came home and already in a fit. She threw me out, said I was an evil monster.” 

“I’m so sorry, Jada. You can stay here tonight. We’ll talk her down in the morning.” 

She nodded. “Could one of you check on her? I’m worried she’ll hurt herself.”

“No problem. Do you want to get cleaned up?”

Her pants were streaked with oil and dirt, her shirt bloody. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I have some pretty big shirts. Nothing pink though,” he joked, trying to draw a flicker of life to her face.

Sam lead her into the bathroom where he handed her a towel and a purple bottle. “Dean’s girlfriend left bubble bath here. He pretends to not use it, but between you and me, he loves the stuff.”

That brought a small smile to her lips.

Dean checked on Dottie, who had gone back to bed, then left to meet Buffy at the grocery store to see if they could find the vamp that bit Jada.

Sam waited on the couch, secretly seething that someone he cared about had been hurt. He wanted desperately to have an open “bad news, vampires are real” talk with her, but he had to know how she was processing what happened first.

Twenty minutes later, Jada emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head with little wisps of damp curls on her neck. His button-down reached her mid-thigh, her long, toned legs on prominent display.

“Do you have any blankets?” she asked.

“Just what’s in the bedroom.”

“Oh.” She lightly pressed her bandages.

“Do you just want to go to sleep?”

“Where are you sleeping?” she asked.

“Couch.”

“Can you even fit?”

Sam shrugged. “My knees are bendy.”

She almost smiled. “I don’t really want to sleep right now.” She paused. “Sam, would you hold me?”

* * *

 

Sam Winchester’s bedroom was furnished with thrift store finds from a variety of decades and  decorated in greens and browns. A masculine room. The walls were devoid of art, but it still had a hominess to it. Perhaps it was the desk piled with papers and brimming with books.

Jada felt safe there.

As they lay in bed, her toes thawing under the covers, Sam caressing her cheek, Jada smiled. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, incredulous. “I put a bandage on your neck. You fought off an attacker.”

“Thank you, pepper spray.”

In her sophomore year of college, someone jumped her as she was walking home from the library. He was drunk but strong; she didn’t know what to do other than scream. Thankfully, someone heard her and chased him off. She started carrying pepper spray after that, and Michael, the only family she told about the attack, taught her how to throw a punch.

Campus security judged her. Her roommate listened to the story like it was a voyeuristic _Dateline_ mystery and told the rest of their floor. But this night was profoundly different in several ways, and Sam was neither a misogynistic campus cop nor a gossipy sociology major.

“He _bit_ me.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, as if she’d stated something normal.

“What on earth did he want from me?”

“To suck your blood?”

She smacked his shoulder. “Do not start with that vampire stuff. One delusional person is enough, thank you.”

But that was the only thing that made sense. Some crazy person read too many vampire books and took things to an unreasonable level. She shivered, thinking about being tied up in the basement of some psycho who wanted her to be his bat-transforming bride.

“What did he look like?” Sam asked.

“Blonde, blue eyes. I’m not sure, but I think he had some scarring. I hadn’t noticed it at first, but something was definitely wrong with this face.” But the more she tried to picture him, the more blurry the memory became. 

Sam kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Gazing into his eyes, a swirled green and blue and gold as if he was holding stars inside him, Jada felt an otherness about herself as if she was watching herself on film. Because Jada Green was not the sort of woman who, after one date, cuddled in bed with her possible boyfriend wearing only his shirt. Jada Green was the sort of woman who made men wait.

But the night started with a horror movie, why couldn’t it end somewhere better? Sam, with his sharp nose and high cheekbones, his slim hips and broad shoulders appealed to her in the root of her belly, all passion. The growing wetness between her legs told her she wanted him. She wasn’t sure she’d ever wanted a man before.

Sex had always been a trade of romance for her and a sexual payoff for him. She’d never minded because she didn’t feel anything was missing. Her college roommate, Tiffany, lamented Jada sex life and frequently tried to lure her to parties. Yet her friend’s stories of wild nights trying to satisfy a near animal lust sounded alien and impossible to Jada. Not even Tyler, who she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with, aroused real passion in her.

Passion was about letting go, and Jada held things in – her feelings, her needs, her wants.

She ran her fingers through Sam’s hair and kissed him, flicking her tongue over his lips. Hand cradling her head, he kissed her back, his nose smooshed against her cheek, his tongue slipping past her teeth. He kissed her passionately.

She didn’t know how to proceed. Sex had always been lay-back-and-let-it-happen. She enjoyed the kisses and caresses, but the sex itself she never led the charge on.

Sliding her leg up his, she dropped her hands to his belt and her eyes to his lips. She was afraid to make eye-contact, afraid the raw desire rising in her would burst forth too fast.

“Jada,” Sam whispered, “we don’t have to do this now.”

“But I want to. God, I want to.”

They became a blur of discarded clothes and warm skin. To her surprise, he didn’t lay her on her back and start. No, he teased her with his fingers, lips and tongue, laving her pert nipples and rubbing her until she could feel her want cresting into a throbbing need. He sent her over the edge. She couldn’t control her arching back, her fingers fisted in the sheets, the cry rushing from her throat.

And that was just the beginning.

They lay in bed, the sheet bunched around their hips as the air cooled their sweat-slick bodies. Jada, unwound and delighted, snuggled against Sam’s chest. Her body tingled, and she felt nearly buoyant.

“You’re humming,” Sam said with a laugh.

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands. “I am?!”

His laugh deepened as he pried her hands away. “It’s okay, Jada.” He kissed her neck to emphasize his point. “Do you normally hum after sex?”

Tyler, a deep romantic, always called it “making love”; but even with candlelight and slow jams, it was still about his pleasure. Tiffany, on the other hand, had always called it “fucking.” “God, I need a good fuck.” “So this guy and I were fucking so loud…” Jada had always considered this crass, but Tiffany seemed to enjoy it. To enjoy herself.

By no means would she call what she and Sam had done some sort of soul unifying love-making. Maybe she too preferred a good fuck?

“Not sure,” she said with a shy smile. “I’ve never had sex worth humming about.”

He ran his hand down her arm and settled on her ribs, his long fingers pressing into her flesh. He licked his lips and gazed at her with lust-blown eyes. “What do I have to do to get you to sing?”


End file.
